I would earnestly recommend families going abroad, who are anxious to secure the advantage of a surgeon, to require a personal interview with the individual who is to act in that capacity; particularly if they sail from a foreign port. Such a precaution would often prevent much disappointment, as the person who is introduced as “the doctor,” not unfrequently turns out to be some vulgar fellow, redolent of rum, and dressed in shabby black; who enjoys the privilege of a free passage, and commonly earns the hearty contempt of all who are doomed to endure his society.
The cabin of a packet ship bound to a distant port, is a bazaar of character. Here are assembled individuals, the very antipodes of each other in religion, politics, employment, country, and language. Here, the gay and the grave, the religious and the profane, with their peculiar prejudices and partialities, meet upon one common plane of equality. Under no other circumstances can this take place. Boarding houses indeed, on the Continent and in America, have some resemblance; but there, an opportunity is afforded for selection; here, choice is impossible. The company, be its composition ever so heterogeneous, is confined within a circumscribed space from which there is no retreat; and all are obliged to spend the whole of their time together in that part of the vessel which they have selected.
Our cabin company however, was by no means numerous. Besides myself and my family, it consisted of the captain and his wife, both originally from Connecticut; a Mrs. Johnson, an English lady; an Irish lady from Antrim; an English manufacturer; a young American merchant; a young Irishman; and a youth of dubious origin, called James.
The captain and his lady were, in point of disposition, the most unlovely specimen of Americans I ever met with, either before or since; and were every way calculated to give us a most unfavourable opinion of the state of society in their own country. Ever since his first voyage to Europe, the captain had entertained a disrelish for the company of Englishmen. This arose from two circumstances, that none but a person of his cast of mind would adduce as distinguishing marks of the English character. I remember, one of these grievances was, that some person on the quay at Liverpool had applied to him the unpalatable term of “transported Yankee,” garnished with some accompaniments by no means complimentary. For this, and something else equally important, he seemed to consider himself justifiable in insulting every Englishman with whom he came in contact, and lost no opportunity of indulging himself in every unamiable species of retaliation that he found conveniently practicable. Morose, and remarkably ignorant, he was eternally smoking cigars; but fortunately for our comfort, possessed the negative virtue of sobriety. Out of his profession, he was nobody, but we had just reason to believe that his nautical talents were of the highest order; and to us, this was certainly a matter of the first importance.
Our private cabins, in which were our berths, were so constructed, that every word might be distinctly heard in the public cabin. I remember that, on the first day of our embarkation, while I was alone in mine, changing my dress, the cabin was at that time occupied by the captain and a few of his personal friends, who had accompanied him on the voyage, with a view of returning in the Pilot boat. Their conversation was about the passengers on board, all of whom, excepting myself, were on deck at that time: I then heard the captain affirm, after alluding to his English passengers, “that if an Englishman were to fall over board he would not throw out a rope to save him.” I distinctly heard him make this assertion, and shall never forget the sensations it produced—I heard also his wife’s amiable applaudissement of this fiend-like expression! This last did not surprise me, as it was in exact accordance with the judgement I had formed of her character, from the first glance of her physiognomy. By cautioning them for the future, to be more guarded in their private communications, I let them know I was in possession of their sentiments; and I thought proper to point out the way in which I obtained my information, in order to convince them that I was above the meanness of listening.
The captain used to commence the day with doing the formidable among the sailors. Having discharged upon these poor fellows, all the steam of ill humour that had accumulated during the previous night, he would descend into the cabin and take breakfast. We had frequently remarked, that during this repast he invariably attempted to make some one of us miserable, by indulging in some insulting remarks, artfully delivered in the form of opinions; so, in order to defeat his amiable intentions, we agreed to preserve a dead silence, or only to speak in the most laconic manner possible; concluding that he could not long amuse himself with a monologue. His advent was agreed upon to be the signal for us to prepare to carry our designs into execution. There we sat—with nun like gravity, quaffing our coffee in silence, as toasts are drank to the memory of the departed!
This negative species of defence had its desired effect. Annoyed by our taciturnity, which necessarily imposed a similar penance on himself, he would turn in despair to his wife. Here he was either entirely unsuccessful, or otherwise amused with an inceptive taste of matrimonial infelicity.
This was the second month of their marriage. His wife was the daughter of a Connecticut farmer, she was about twenty-five years of age, and somewhat diminutive in person. Her countenance on all occasions, preserved the rigidity of a statue, except when excited to dart a look of malevolence; or when she endeavoured to assume an air of authority: on this latter occasion it presented the funniest appearance imaginable. Transplanted from the domestic employment of a small farm, to do the honours of the cabin table, she evidently felt herself greatly exalted, and bore her elevation with the worst possible grace. Of a mean and suspicious cast of mind, and conscious of being alike destitute of outward attractions and internal excellencies, she was in consequence, jealous in the extreme, and always interpreted any little attention paid to another, in her presence, as a direct insult offered to herself. Her conduct to the poor black steward was marked with haughtiness and cruelty; and if it be true what I have often heard affirmed—that vulgar pride is found united with meanness and tyranny; certainly in this instance, the unity of this triune cluster of graces is strictly preserved.
The English lady, Mr. Johnson, was an amiable personage. She was, in my judgement, as correct a personification of virtue as any with whom I have ever met. Devout without superstition—cheerful without levity—refined without affectation—and well informed, without literary pretension, she might pass for a model.
The Antrim lady was a very good natured creature. She stood on equal ground with the captain’s wife in point of educational advantages, or rather disadvantages; but was her opposite in every thing else. She was remarkably agreeable, and possessed that truly Christian qualification I so much admire—an earnest desire to make every one happy. Her foibles were the result of her unfortunately limited education. But I found in her case, as in some others, that a redundant flow of animal spirits is no certain evidence of weak intellects or shallow feelings.